


Dog Days

by fairest



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Shelter AU, But He Gets Better, F/M, Fluff, Humor, aka the au you never knew you wanted until now, but doesn't realize it, felicity and sara are besties in this, felicity doesn't tolerate his bullshit, oliver is a dog whisperer, oliver's a spoiled brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2070528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairest/pseuds/fairest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak owns and manages an animal shelter. Oliver Queen is the spoiled son who has to work off three hundred hours of community service or risk jail time. </p><p>They meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Look A Little Pupped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by my intense love of dogs and that one week where I was sick and watched a marathon of Pit Bulls and Parolees.
> 
> This is going to be pretty light hearted, and I'm excited to write it.

“You are hereby sentenced to three hundred hours of community service, to be served at Circuit Board Kennel.”

The sentence is carried out with the deathly quiet air of a death sentence. Oliver Queen has already been informed of the sentence but that doesn’t stop him from pulling a face at the mention of the word ‘kennel.’ He was incredibly lucky (read: rich) that he was able to get the sentence down to just community service instead of spending time in jail but even the oily manipulations of the Queen family lawyer hadn’t been enough to get him into something easy. 

It’s announced that court was adjourned and he turns to follow his lawyer out of the court room, already talking. “Is there any way we can pay someone off to do my community service? Or pay off the kennel?”

Martin West, a short balding man kept fat by his family’s money, pats his glistening forehead with his tie. “Ah, no, Mr. Queen. The owner of the kennel is known to refuse any sort of bribe. I’m afraid you will actually have to do the community service or risk jail time.”

Oliver groans loudly at the idea of having to clean up after some mangy mutts.

* * *

The original instructions say for him to be at the kennel at eight in the morning, so he figures meeting in the middle between eight and his preferred wake up time of noon is close enough. 

He strides into the front room of the kennel and is immediately confronted with the smell of dog. His grip tightens around the gigantic cup of coffee in his hand and he flashes a winning smile at the girl sitting behind the counter. She was cute, he noted. Blonde hair with big brown eyes. “Oliver Queen, reporting for duty,” he tells her with a teasing smirk. 

She looks up from the computer monitor and eyes him. “You’re late,” she informs him irritably. “You were supposed to be here two hours ago.” ‘Sara’, her name tag proclaims proudly. 

He shrugs, refusing to let her irate behavior dull his flirting. “I had a late night. You understand,” he tells her. 

She continues to look unimpressed. “From what I hear, a late night is what got you into this mess,” she snaps back, instantly managing to make him feel contrite and the smirk slips away. “Felicity won’t be pleased about this, so come on. Let’s go before you’re even later. You should throw that out,” The blonde points at his cup of coffee and gets up from her desk and gestures for him to follow her through a door marked with a sign that reads ‘Kennel Entrance.’ He manages to drain the cup and toss it before following.

The smell is even stronger behind the door and the barking of so many dogs gives him an instant headache. “Yo, John,” Sara calls to a dark-skinned man with arms so thick that Oliver finds himself feeling oddly apprehensive for a second. “Have you seen Roy?”

John looks over from where he’s inside a kennel with a big striped dog, attempting to put down a bowl filled with food while avoiding the dog’s wayward tongue. “Yeah, I think he’s out in the dog run with Arsenal,” he replies. He gives Oliver a considering look before looking as unimpressed as Sara had and turns back to the dog. Oliver is beginning to feel rather unwelcome. 

“Wait, who’s Roy?” He asks as he follows the blonde out and into the warmth of the day. “I thought we were looking for a Felicity.”

Sara shakes her head. “Felicity’s too busy to deal with you, so Roy’s gonna show you around and get you started on your dogs.” She leads him over to a large fenced area where a teenager is standing throwing a ball. “Hey Roy, your newbie is here,” she calls to him. The teenager turns and Oliver is once again treated to the same considering look. 

“Those clothes are going to be trashed by the time you leave,” Roy informs him bluntly, eyeing Oliver’s admittedly expensive clothes. 

“These are the cheapest I have,” Oliver bites back, something about the kid’s attitude making him defensive. Roy snorts derisively. 

“Go to a thrift store, idiot,” he says. “Secondhand clothes won’t kill you.” It takes only one glance for Oliver to realize that the teenager’s clothes were incredibly worn and had seen better days. 

“I can always buy ten new outfits exactly like this one,” he shrugs. Sara snorts and claps him on the shoulder, startling him. 

“You’re going to be popular here,” is all she says before lifting a hand to Roy and turning around. He feels a moment of panic at the idea of being left alone with the hostile teenager. 

“Wait, where are you going?” He asks.

“I have my own work to do,” she tells him briefly before disappearing back inside. Oliver turns back to face Roy who offers him a smirk. 

“Don’t worry, Queen,” he says. “I won’t eat you and neither will Arsenal here.”

* * *

Oliver hates this place. 

He hates the smell, the sounds, the dogs. And he especially hates Roy, who spends his time being a total; dick and not helping him at all. 

“Don’t forget to lift the bed,” Roy tells him for the third time, leaning against the edge of the kennel with his arms crossed. Oliver fights back the urge to growl and does as suggested. He sweeps the broom under, scooping out the large clumps of grey fur that have collected under there. The bed clatters down onto the ground, and he tosses the blankets onto it haphazardly.

As soon as he dumps the fur and dirt into a nearby trash can, Roy shoves two empty metal bowls in his hands. “You need to scrub these down and then fill one with water. On each chart, it will list the amount of food each dog gets, and Arrow here gets two and a half cups.” The quite frankly gigantic dog within the kennel wags his tail in acknowledgement at his name. Roy jerks a thumb at the opposite corner. “The sink and soap are over there.”

Oliver casts one final glower at the oblivious dog and trudges off. His hands are already aching and he gives the bowls a cursory cleaning before moving backwards. After filling them, he fights off the exuberant dog to place the food down before promptly retreating.

A scratch from the dog’s nails is already turning pink. “I hate this place,” he complains. Roy laughs at him.

* * *

He’s blissfully done for the day and every part of him aches from the unfamiliar work out. Oliver flexes his finger after he signs off on the six hours he'd completed for the day and when he turns around, a new blonde is standing in front of him. She peers up at him through glasses and her brightly colored nails are hovering over a tablet. 

He’s almost too tired to notice that she’s cute. Like nerdy cute. Super nerdy cute. God, he’s tired. 

“Oliver Queen,” she greets as if they’re old friends. He blinks at her, a bit lost. “I’m Felicity Smoak,” she adds on as if realizing that he has no idea who she is. “I own and manage this shelter. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet earlier, but I’ve been busy all day. Like I’m about to keel over at being up twenty four hours kind of busy. I wanted to speak with you before you leave.”

He’s too tired to properly process the word vomit, but he finds a small smile curving his lips regardless. He’s never too tired to flirt with a pretty girl, and if he gets her alone, he’s sure he can convince her to let him do easy work for the rest of his community service. “Sure. Lead the way,” he tells her. 

With a slight smile, she turns and leads him into her office, judging by the name on the door. She gestures for him to sit down while she sits down behind a discreet wooden desk. He sits, relieved for the opportunity to rest his legs. Felicity taps on the screen of the tablet before looking at him. “Sara informed me that you were late getting here,” she begins, tone brisk. 

He blinks. “I had a late night,” he explains. “A friend of mine dragged me out.” She looks unimpressed. 

“Mr. Queen,” she starts. “I don’t care what you do during your nights. However, if you are late again, I will report it in and you can finish your sentence in jail. You will be here at eight every morning from now on and you will do your mandatory eight hours every day.” Her tone leaves no room for argument and he finds himself at a lost of words for a moment. 

“Look, Felicity,” he begins smoothly, giving her the smirk that has gotten him laid more times than he can count. She narrows her eyes at him at the familiarity. “I know I’m supposed to complete my three hundred hours but I’m sure there’s some arrangement that can be made. I’m sure you know my family and I’m confident that a large donation can be made in exchange for letting me slide.”

She looks disbelieving. “No,” she says firmly, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Mr. Queen, you will do your job legitimately or you can go to jail. I don’t want or need your money.” The case apparently closed, she gets to her feet. “I want to check out your kennels, and then you can leave for the day.”

He’s stunned. No one has ever turned down his money before. He scrambles to her feet in an undignified manner. “Roy already signed off on them,” he protests. 

“Yes, but I want to see for myself,” she tells him. “Roy sometimes slacks off on the newbies.”

“ _That_ was slacking off?” He asks incredulously, earning himself a laugh.

“He did his community service here too,” she tells him. “So he understands more than some of the others.”

They take a different route to get to his assigned kennels, and he finds himself glancing in one kennel as they pass it, despite his strong desire to never see a four-legged animal again. He at first thinks it’s an empty kennel but then a black nose sticks out from the huddle of blankets in the corner and he slows to a stop. “Hey, who’s this?” He calls to the blonde walking away in front of him. His curiosity is peaked despite himself. Felicity turns and a soft smile appears as she notices the kennel he’s stopped in front of. 

“That’s Lady,” she says, walking back to him. “One of our newer ones. She’s not super friendly, so she hides under those blankets.” 

He glances briefly at the chart attached to the kennel door. ‘Irish Setter mix,’ it says for the breed. It also says that she is an estimated nine years old. The word ‘fearful’ is marked in big and bold letters. He lets the chart clatter back against the chain door and he crouches down. The nose becomes a muzzle and he can just barely sees dark eyes from within the shadows of the blanket. “Hey, pretty girl,” he coaxes, voice softening. 

Lady slowly inches her way out of the blanket, belly to the ground and sniffs at his fingers. He can see that her fur is mostly white with large red patches and could definitely use a good brushing. 

The moment is broken by a door slamming closed and she immediately dives under the blanket. He looks over at Felicity and sees her looking at him wonderingly. She offers him a significantly more sincere smile. “I think you’ll fit in nicely, Mr. Queen,” she tells him.

* * *

He’s so exhausted from his day at the kennel that he turns down Tommy’s offer to go out to a club to celebrate his day of work and instead eats dinner with his family (much to the surprise of his mother) before taking the hottest shower of his life and then collapsing into bed before the clock even hit double digits. 

He finds himself oddly looking forward to the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady looks like [this.](http://www.irishdogs.ie/images/gallery/100/1795_album.jpg)


	2. This is Pawsitively Pawful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's second day goes marginally better than his first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been absolutely killer. I'm speechless. Thank you everyone for your kudos and comments. :)
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my new puppy, who kept me up half the night by chewing on my feet. This chapter was basically written in one sitting because he wouldn't let me sleep and my internet went down.

The next morning, Oliver manages to drag himself out of bed with just enough time to scarf down some food before leaving (on time!) to get to the kennel. He ignores the exaggeratedly amazed looks he earns himself from Thea and the proud look his mother bestows on him. Just because he’s not willing to cross the blonde owner of the kennel again doesn’t magically make him willing to step up and act as the heir to QC all of a sudden.

He’s not afraid to admit, privately to himself at least, that Felicity Smoak is intimidating as all hell despite her short stature and big blue eyes.

He slides into the limo with another gigantic cup of coffee in hands, which he then proceed to drink quickly so he can just toss it out at the kennel without having to carry it around and possibly risk Sara’s wrath. Judging by the way he’d seen the other blonde wrangle a dog taller than he was into walking obediently beside her the other day, she was definitely not someone he wanted to piss off.

“It’s too goddamn early for this,” he complains almost immediately as he walks in, tossing the empty coffee cup into the trash can. The vaguely approving look he’d earned himself from Sara immediately turns disapproving and he feels almost like a scolded child.

“I’ve been here two hours,” she says flatly. She gives his outfit a considering look. “Nice clothes.”

“Thanks,” he says. He doesn’t say that he’d sent a servant out to go thrift store shopping for him instead of going himself (or that he did throw away the clothes from yesterday). There was no way he would show his face in a place like that. The t-shirt and worn jeans are surprisingly comfortable, though. “Where’s Roy?”

“Out walking dogs, but you’re on your own today,” she tells him. “He helped you yesterday, but we all have our own stuff to do. You’re pretty much doing the same thing you did yesterday, though you’ll also be taking your dogs out today.” Oliver immediately balks at the idea of walking dogs.

“It’s bad enough that I have to clean up after these mutts, but now I have to walk them?” He scowls.

“Yes. Leashes are in that room.” Sara points and turns back to the computer, summarily dismissing him. His first instinct is to continue complaining until he gets his way, but a warning look is all that’s needed to get him moving towards the door. “Oh, also. Felicity wants you to take care of Lady now.”

Oliver stops and looks at her. “What, why?”

Sara shrugs. “She thinks you’ll be good for her.”

 

* * *

 

Despite the fact that Oliver knows his other dogs are on the other side of the kennel, he finds himself stopping by Lady’s kennel before anything else. He rationalizes it that it makes sense to do her first as she’s separate from his other charges. He’s not entirely sure she’s moved at all since he saw her yesterday. A dark nose pokes itself out of the blanket nest a moment later.

He lets himself in.

“Hey, girl,” he says softly, crouching down a few feet away from the blanket. In a manner similar to yesterday, the dog slides out on her belly. After she spends what feels like forever sniffing his fingers, her tail begins to cautiously thump against the ground and he feels comfortable enough to reach out and give her a scratch behind an ear. Her fur is just as soft as he thought it would be, though it’s definitely in need of a good brushing and beginning to look matted.

“You’re a lot braver than the chart says,” he continues in that same soft tone, and the tail thumps just that much harder against the ground. Now that she’s closer, he can see some distinct graying on her face and muzzle. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t wanted to take you home.”

“It’s because she’s old and shy,” a voice says from the other side of the kennel door and both Oliver and Lady jump. The dog immediately turns around and dives back under the safety of the blanket. Oliver turns and sees the black man with arms like tree trunks from yesterday. John, he remembers dimly. John smiles apologetically at him. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to spook you.”

Oliver stands, dusting the red and white fur from his hands. “It’s all right. And she’s not _that_ old. It’s not like she’s going to keel out tomorrow.” He’s never actually owned a dog so he knows very little about them, but nine doesn’t seem _that_ old. He remembers a maid mentioning that she had to recently put down her dog months ago and it had been sixteen.

John shrugs. “Everybody wants puppies or young adults. Nobody wants seniors.” His dark eyes slide past Oliver to the huddled heap on the dog bed. “It’s a shame. She’s a sweetheart.”

Oliver hurries to pick up the two metal bowls and follows John down the path. “What’s going to happen to her?” He wants to know.

“Felicity doesn’t put down animals to free up space, so Lady’ll probably live out her days here if she doesn’t get adopted,” John tells him. “Have a good day, Oliver.” The older man waves goodbye before ducking into the bathing room where Oliver glimpses a lab waiting before the door closes.

Oliver cleans out the metal bowls, scrubbing them down until he can see his reflection in them before returning to Lady's kennel with a broom in one hand. After gently ushering the timid dog into the other part of the kennel (which is accomplished by pulling her blankets off and tossing them into it and waiting for her to follow) and lowering the gate, he sets about sweeping out the kennel of the long hairs that had gathered in the corners.

Roy’s voice runs through his head on what to look for when cleaning the kennels and to his relief, there isn’t any sort of mess to clean up other than the fur. He leaves her for a few more minutes on the other side of the gate as he goes to fill up her bowls. After raising the gate, he gives her one final pat before leaving her and moving on to his other charges.

Seeing as Sara never told him _when_ he had to walk all of his dogs, he decides to put it off as long as possible. He’s not exactly dying to be at the wrong end of a rope attached to a squirming, hyperactive beast.

 

* * *

 

Once again, when he’s finished taking care of all of his kennels and it’s finally time to walk them, Lady is up first. Despite himself, he finds himself drawn to the senior dog.

He grabs a slip leash (red – to match her fur) and then slides into her kennel as swiftly as possible. He’d nearly had a jail break when Speedy had gotten eager and tried to dart by him to freedom and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. It turns out it wasn’t necessary, as even at the sight of a leash, Lady took her sweet time to approach him and immediately sat meekly at his feet. He scritches her behind the head and slips the leash around her neck.

He takes her to one of the empty dog runs to let her run around and grudgingly sits down on the grass. It’s not even noon and his everything hurts. “This sucks,” he complains to Lady. “Why couldn’t I do paperwork or something? I’m not for doing manual labor.”

“It’s supposed to teach you good behavior,” an amused voice says and he jumps. Turning, he sees Felicity, wearing a baggy t-shirt and jean cut-offs, on the other side of the gate. He admires her bare legs blatantly for a moment. Her hair is back into a ponytail today and he likes the way it shows off her square frames and face. “ _And_ it’s a punishment. It’s not much of a punishment if you get to sit in air conditioning all day.”

He pulls an exaggerated face at her and she laughs. “I reek of dogs and one of them peed on me earlier. There _has_ to be something better.”

She grins at him. “Speedy does that when she’s excited. Once she gets used to you, it’ll stop.”

He… doesn’t actually know how to respond to that. “I’m not really fit for manual labor, y’know?”  
  
“Oh, you’re definitely fit,” she blurts out before immediately looking horrified. The decidedly male part, arrogant of him preens in approval. “I mean – not that I’ve noticed or anything. It’s just…a general feeling.” She finishes lamely, flushing attractively under the word slip.

He chuckles, the sound purposefully low, and her flush darkens. He opens his mouth with the intent of saying something that could possibly convince her to experience his mentioned fitness for herself but she interrupts him before he can even begin. “Oh, look. I need to go before I make an even bigger idiot out of myself. Dogs to adopt, papers to sign, that kind of thing.”

She disappears back inside before he could even get a word out and he’s left staring bemusedly after her. Lady nudges at his hand and he turns back to her. She looks up at him with big brown eyes and he pets her head before slipping the leash back on. “Come on, girl,” he says. “Time to go back in.”

 

* * *

 

He spends the next several hours systematically taking out his other charges and avoiding dog spit.

When at last his chores are done, he retreats into the grooming room and stares in confusion at all the different brushes. There are signs proclaiming the types of brushes, but not their use. He has no idea where to start.

“What’re you looking at, newbie?” Roy asked as he brushes past him and grabs a brush off the shelf.

Oliver scratches his head and tries not to be annoyed by the nickname that he seems to have garnered. “I was kind of thinking that I’d brush out Lady now that I’m done with all my stuff. Her fur is kind of matted and I thought that if she looked better, she might be adopted. I have no idea what to use, though.”

Apparently surprised, Roy stops and looks at him. He’s getting a little sick of these looks. It’s not like he’s a terrible person or anything. “Good luck, dude. It’d be easier just to trim the mats out so just grab a pair of scissors, but take a slicker brush and a comb too.” Advice apparently given, the teenager ducks back out.

Oliver does as suggested and slips back into Lady’s kennel. He sets the grooming tools on the ground and sits back down on the ground with a soft greeting. She seems to be getting more comfortable with him and greets him pretty quickly by sliding close and resting her head in his lap.

He lets her sniff the scissors before he starts to trim down her fur and quickly realizes that he had not thought this through all the way. Clumps of fur are beginning to accumulate rapidly as he continues and his jeans are beginning to look like the stripped part of the national flag.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyeing the mounds of fur that are in piles around them once he’s cut away the mats. “And I’m not even done. You better look damn good after this, otherwise it’s not worth it,” he tells Lady mock seriously as he picks up the slicker brush next. She just continues to look up at him calmly.

He attempts to be as thorough as possible, considering his complete inexperience in this task. He’s pretty sure he’s going to be cleaning fur out of his hair for the next week, but he does have to admit she looks a lot better now. He gives her one last pet before going to put up the brushes (and then be chided by John for not washing them) and grab a broom.

The fur on the kennel floor is thick enough he’s pretty sure he could make a rug out of it and it takes three trips for him to finish sweeping it clean. A glance at the clock finds that his eight hours ended half an hour ago. Knowing that he has to check his kennels one last time or face someone’s wrath, he glances in them before moving to the front room to sign out.

Sara takes one look at him and starts laughing. Oliver flushes out of embarrassment. “That’s a good look for you, newbie,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” he says irritably. He’s still sore and exhausted and in no mood to be teased. “Lady needed to be brushed out.”

Her chortles almost immediately stop. “Wait, you groomed Lady?”

“Yeah, why?” Her reaction makes him suspicious.

“Lady hates being groomed. John tried to do it when she first got here and she nearly bit him,” she explains, looking grudgingly impressed.

“Hey, Sara. Could you go ahead and call your sister and let her know that Canary can be picked up tomorrow?” Felicity asks, coming out of her office without looking up from her tablet.

“Sure, no problem,” Sara replies, almost immediately turning to the phone. “Hey, Felicity. You’ll never guess what newbie here managed to do.” Her tone is mischievous and Oliver levels her with a halfhearted glare. She’s too cute to be fully pissed off at, but it’s a near thing.

“What?” Felicity asks, looking up and looking at Oliver. She looks him over and lingers on the patches of fur he knows he wasn’t able to get off fully. He feels an unfamiliar burst of self consciousness under her gaze.

“He groomed Lady.” Felicity’s look goes from curious to wondering almost immediately. He’s never seen that look aimed at him before and has no idea on how to handle it.

“That’s amazing, Mr. Queen,” she tells him earnestly. “I thought you’d be good for her.”

“Er, thanks,” he replies awkwardly. He’s uncomfortable enough that he’s not even feeling his normal desire to flirt incessantly with either blonde. “Well, I’m done for the day so I’m going to go home and take the hottest shower of my life.”

Felicity smiles sincerely at him and looks back at her tablet. “Good night, Mr. Queen. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“G’night,” he mutters before ducking out and into the limo that’s been waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Thea takes one look at him when he walks in and pinches her nostrils shut in an exaggerated response. “You stink, Ollie.”

“Thanks, brat,” he says dryly. “And what did you do, bathe in that perfume?”

“Don’t be a dick,” she tells him, slipping into a pair of heels that are _definitely_ too mature for her to wear. “I’m going out. Do us all a favor and take a bath.”

“And do _me_ a favor and go back to watching Disney!” He calls after her retreating back before turning back around and seeing his mother eyeing him critically.

“Those are new clothes,” is all she says. He shrugs.

“It was suggested that I get some clothes that can get dirty,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“I see,” she says in a tone that implies that she doesn’t. “And how was your day today?”

“It was all right. The owner is cute.”

“Really, Oliver?” Her voice drips with disappointment. He grins unrepentantly at her and shrugs.

“There’s a dog I really like, too.”

“And is that why you decided to bring your work home with you?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr.](https://tititilani.tumblr.com)


	3. Oliver's Ruff Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver gets an embarrassing new nickname, learns more about Felicity, and makes a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a blast coming up with as many terrible dog puns as I can.
> 
> The response to this has been killer. I am practically in awe of you guys. You guys are all amazing.
> 
> Thanks for all of the comments and kudos, everyone.

Despite what he had (admittedly somewhat naively) hoped, Lady being groomed and trimmed into looking much more respectable didn’t magically get her adopted. The senior setter continued to look mournful from beneath her pile of blankets. He’d even been asked for more information on her from a potential family, but apparently it hadn’t been enough and they’d decided on a puppy instead.

At least Lady is making progress all on her own, he figures. She’s started greeting him when he walks into her kennel instead of needing to be coaxed out and she’s even starting to be more welcoming towards the other staff.

Roy’s started calling him “Boy Wonder” to his face and he’s having trouble figuring out if he hates it more or less than ‘newbie.’

He still kind of hates this job but he can at least admit that it’s not  _all_ bad. Sara still swears she saw him almost crying the first time he had to clean up after a dog (and almost cried herself – from laughter), but he refuses to confirm or deny it. He still complains a lot and asks to do paperwork instead, but judging by the amused looks he’s garnering, he’s not really putting his full effort into it anymore.

There are other good things about this place other than the dogs, he thinks to himself, watching appreciatively as Felicity’s cute butt disappears behind the office door (and how can an  _ass_ even be adorable? He wants to make that ass breakfast). “So what are the chances I can get Felicity to go out with me?” He asks Sara casually.

“Nonexistent,” she replies bluntly. “You’re not her type.”

He smirks cockily. “Handsome? Rich?”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “Skanky.”

He fakes an overdramatic gasp. “Sara, how dare you. I’m not skanky.”

She looks like she’s smothering laughter. “Name the last three girls you’ve slept with.”

He makes a face. Damn. “Um.”

Sara points a pen at him. “ _That_ is what we call skanky, Boy Wonder.”

“Oh, god, not you too!” He’s horrified.  _Now_ she starts laughing at him, and keeps laughing at him even as he eventually leaves to finish his kennels.

 

* * *

 

He’s just put Arrow back in his kennel when Felicity comes into his line of view and almost immediately has his attention. The owner has that kind of effect on him, and he finds himself being able to spot her long before she actually approaches him. “Hey, you,” he greets as he folds up the leash to put it back up.

She smiles at him. “Hi. I need your help.”

“Okay…” He says slowly, wondering where she’s going with this. “That isn’t your incredibly nice way of saying I fucked up again, is it?”

“What? No,” she looks confused. “You’re looking fine.  _Doing_ fine! I mean you’re doing fine. I actually do want your help, if you’re not busy. You’re not, are you? I thought you had done at least most of your chores by this point and if you aren’t at least mostly done then you should really try speeding up and-”

“Felicity,” he interrupts, heading off what he knows by now could be a fully developed rant if left alone.

Her mouth closes with a click. “Right. Sorry. Someone just dropped off a nursing dog with a litter of puppies and I could use your help. If you’re not busy.”

“Which I’m not,” he assures her with a shrug. “And sure. Speedy’s going to need a bath but a little while longer won’t hurt her. I think.” He knows very little about dogs and even less about puppies so he has no idea why Felicity wants his help when there are other people around, but something about Felicity’s big blue eyes make it difficult to say no.

Those big blue eyes and the fact that she can cancel his community service and throw him in jail at a moment’s notice.

The smile she gives him makes his stomach cramp uncomfortably. “Great, thank you,” she says. “I just need some help getting them labeled and in the database and then into their kennel.”

He gestures. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

Neither the puppies nor the mom were what Oliver had expected (even if he didn’t know exactly what he had expected). They all had big blocky heads that he’d swear should cause them to all keel over from the lopsided proportions. He gets chewed on within minutes of sitting on the ground opposite Felicity and has to tuck his shoes under a blanket to keep sharp puppy teeth from chewing on the expensive leather (for god’s sake, these shoes cost more than most people’s entire wardrobe).

He decides pretty quickly he doesn’t get the fuss about puppies. He’d much rather have an older dog like Lady.

Felicity seems to be blissfully unaware of his slowly mounting distaste for the chewing monsters and she’s downright giggly as she teases one of the puppies with a toy. If he wasn’t so irritated, he’d find the entire interaction cute.

“So what do we name these guys?” He asks, sitting on his hands to prevent a particularly persistent puppy from ruining his manicure. The question earns him a shrug.

“We don’t usually use a name theme or anything,” she tells him. “So whatever we want.”

“Let’s call this one Bitey,” he declares, making a face as he lifts up the puppy that had been going after his shoes and hands. Felicity snorts in a vain attempt to smother her laughter.

“And this one Sleepy?” She asks with a smile, pointing at a puppy that has pretty much been asleep the whole time they had been in the room. The dogs were being kept in a separate room in a large crate to keep them from the main part of the kennel and both the mother and the sleeping puppy were passed out in the crate.

“And that one is Doc,” he points at another random puppy, trying his best to remember the different names of the seven dwarfs from when Thea was young enough to enjoy Disney movies. Felicity can’t contain her laughter this time.

There are eight puppies in the litter, which means they can name a puppy after each of the seven dwarves (along with Chewy – Felicity made him change the name because ‘Bitey’ had bad connotations), and in sticking with the theme, they decide to name the mother dog Snow White. Oliver finds himself grinning as he scribbles the name onto the chart while Felicity marks the puppies’ names onto their collars (pink for girls, blue for boys) to keep them straight.

“So how the hell did you get started on this job?” He asks, taking advantage of Felicity’s distraction. She’s so distracted, she barely jumps.

“It used to belong to my grandpa,” she says, not looking up from where she’s attempting to wrangle Happy into her collar. “When he died, the shelter got left to me. I hadn’t meant to stay but then I couldn’t leave.” She makes a noise of triumph as she successfully fastens the collar and puts Happy in the crate with the others.

“That sucks.” He has no idea what to say.

“I couldn’t imagine doing anything else,” she says with a grin. “I was in MIT at first, but left to come here. Best decision I ever made.”

Oliver becomes irrationally aware that Felicity is clearly way smarter than he is if she managed to get into MIT. Jesus, she really is out of his league.

 

* * *

 

Thea takes one look at him when she walks into the shelter and starts laughing. “Shut up,” he invites, trying to make his face as severe as possible. Which he realizes is difficult when he is covered in mud and water, courtesy of a rebellious Arrow who didn’t want to be bathed.

“No wonder you asked me to bring you new clothes.” She continues to grin even as she puts the stack of neatly folded clothes on the counter. Sara, who is at her ever present place behind the counter, looks as if Christmas has come early. He makes a face at both of them but grabs his new clothes and ducks into a rest room to change.

When he returns, Thea is still there and talking with Sara. “You’re still here, brat?” He asks.

“Just seeing how much dirt I can get on you,” Thea tells him. “Metaphorically, of course.” She eyes the dirtied clothes he’s holding in his hands disdainfully. He waves them at her threateningly and she flinches away from the splatter of mud.

“Hey, Boy Wonder. Where’s Speedy’s-” Roy comes in, immediately falling silent when he catches sight of Thea. He seems to forget to continue speaking and he just continues to stare (rather inappropriately, Oliver felt) at Thea, who gave the boy a long considering look before turning away.

This could not end well. “Where’s Speedy’s what?” Oliver asks. Roy snaps out of his daze and looks confused for a moment before comprehension dawns.

“Her rainbow fish. It’s not in her kennel and she’s whining for it.”

“Check the dog run,” Oliver tells him. “I meant to grab it out of there but I forgot.”

“Okay.” Roy continues to linger in the doorway with his gaze inadvertently finding its way back to Thea. It takes Oliver raising his eyebrows and giving him a pointed look for him to finally snap out of his daze and leave.

 

* * *

 

“So, your sister…”

“I will drown you in this bath water.”

 

* * *

 

More days go by, and it seems Oliver’s attempts to make Lady more appealing to be adopted have been in vain. She continues to wallow in her kennel, and he finds himself spending more and more time with her in her kennel. He seems to be pulled there almost magnetically (and it doesn’t help that she has big brown eyes that never fail to guilt trip him).

“They are missing out on a really good dog,” he reassures the setter as they watch yet another family pass on her in favor of a younger dog. “They would be lucky to have you.”

“Maybe you should adopt her, Boy Wonder,” John tells him from next door where he’s cleaning out Mockingbird’s kennel. “Since you like her so much.”

Oliver immediately dismisses the thought. “I would be awful at taking care of another living thing. I can barely keep myself alive.”

“Fair enough,” John concedes. “Not everyone’s cut out to be a dog owner. I’m sure she’ll get adopted eventually.”

 Something about the dark skinned man’s too-innocent tone causes Oliver’s hackles to rise. “What’s supposed to mean?”

Even though he can’t see the other man, he’s positive he’s shrugging. “Nothing, man. Just agreeing with you. Lady there will get adopted out eventually. Probably.” His tone is still too-innocent.

“Yeah, of course she will,” Oliver agrees, feeling less confident than he had only a few minutes ago.

 

* * *

 

“I want to adopt Lady,” Oliver announces to Felicity as he all but storms into the owner’s office. The blonde jumps at his loud voice, blinking up at him uncomprehendingly for a moment.

“What?”

“Lady,” he unnecessarily clarifies. “I want to adopt her.”

Her uncomprehending look doesn’t go away. “Wait, why? No offense Oliver, but when you started, I thought you hated dogs. Like Cruella deVille kind of hated.”

“I do. Or did. But I don’t know…Lady’s different. I want her.” He feels awkward now. He’s normally king of impulsive decisions and he’s never once regretted any of them, but this feels different and he’s not sure why.

Felicity takes off her glasses and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Oliver…no.”

That…wasn’t the answer he had expected. “What? Why not?!” Oliver Queen does  _not_ get told ‘no.’

“Oliver, you’re not here volunteering. You’re here doing  _community service_ ,” she begins, replacing her glasses and leaning back in her chair. “You are here because you peed on a cop and crashed your car  _into_ a cop car. That’s not exactly appropriate behavior for an adopter. More to the point, like I said earlier, you hated dogs when you started here a week ago.”

“Yeah, a  _week_ ago,” he disagrees, irritation flaring up. “I like Lady and as John told me, a senior dog rarely gets adopted. I can give her a home.”

“Yes, and who would take care of her? You or your staff?” Felicity asks pointedly.

Oliver opens his mouth to respond but then pauses, uncertain. He’d never thought about it, but he had always had staff take care of whatever he didn’t want to. One night stands, his cars, his room.

“I refuse to send my dogs to homes where they will be taken care of by paid strangers,” Felicity tells him flatly. “They deserve to be loved.”

“I’d love her!” He snaps back. He’s itching for a fight and the blonde who refused to cave to his every whim was as good a target as any.

“No, Oliver.” Felicity dismisses him as she turns back to stack of papers on her desk. He stands at the entrance of her office, utterly speechless.

“What do I have to do for you to let me adopt her?” He asks desperately then. As new as he is to this dog thing, he  _does_ genuinely want Lady.

Felicity looks back at him, considering. “Prove to me you’ll do right by her,” she says.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Finish out your community service, the remaining two hundred and forty six hours,  _without_ complaining or cheating or anything. Do research into her breed, into her age group, anything. _Prove to me you’ll do right by her,_ ” she explains, giving him a discerning look. “Do that and  _if_ she is still here when your community service is over, you can adopt her. Deal?”

He barely thinks about it. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you saw this coming? I think of myself as sneaky, so I hope I took at least some of you by surprise. 
> 
> Come chat me up on [tumblr.](tititilani.tumblr.com)


	4. Bow Wow Wowza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both Oliver and Felicity have to schmooze at a ball (just not together), and there's a sudden onset of Foot In Mouth disease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone needs to make me stop with the terrible, punny titles. 
> 
> Sorry this is so late, my puppy's been driving me crazy. I'm not thrilled with this chapter, but I'm sick of looking at it.
> 
> Out of curiosity, would anyone be interested in being my beta? Just someone to proof read my chapters and allow me to bounce ideas off of them. :)

“Is my smile genuine enough?” 

Tommy Merlyn looks over at Oliver and smothers a laugh. He lifts his drink in acknowledgement. “Perfect mix of ‘happy to see you again’ and ‘sociopath’,” he assures him. The increasingly pinched looking smile that Oliver had been sporting becomes a little more genuine at the comment and he taps his third champagne glass against Tommy’s lightly.

He’s already begun to earn himself pointed looks from his mother, but he figures that he’s earned it considering the amount of schmoozing he’s already had to tonight and how much more he has to do before the night can ends. The promise of a Maserati didn’t hurt, either. He hasn’t peed on a cop or been found out making out with a senator’s wife yet (or both) so he figures he’s still doing pretty well.

Tommy makes a show of checking his watch. “How much longer until we’re home free? Domino is hosting a DJ tonight that’s supposed to be amazing, and  _you_ haven’t come out with me all week.” Oliver’s best friend looks insulted by that and Oliver grins at him.

“Another hour or so, I think,” Oliver admits. “Mom told me that I had to say hello to some board members before she’d let me go free.”

Tommy tsked. “Poor Ollie.” The shit eating grin that Oliver is given belies Tommy’s sympathetic tone. Oliver makes a face at him before a flash of blonde hair catches his eye and he abruptly frowns before turning to look at it. He knows that blonde hair, though he doesn’t know what it’s doing  _here_. Tommy follows his gaze and his normally lighthearted grin becomes salacious. “Already found your girl, huh?” He asks.

“No,” Oliver tells him immediately, shaking his head. “That’s the owner of the kennel I’m doing my community service at.”

“Huh. What’s she doing here?”

“Dunno.”

Bidding a quick farewell to his best friend, Oliver downs the last of his champagne before grabbing a new flute from a passing waiter before heading for Felicity. He takes a quick moment to admire the gold dress she’s wearing from the back before stepping around into her line of sight.

“Can I compare you to a summer’s day?” He asks cheekily, earning himself a surprised look and a smile from the kennel owner.

“You butchered that line,” she tells him. He shrugs, refusing to drop his grin.

“I didn’t study Shakespeare at any of the four schools I dropped out of,” he tells her in a conspiratorial whisper. She laughs at him from behind her own flute of champagne.

“Well, if you decide to use that as a line on another woman, make sure you get it right,” she says. “No points for flubbing up a famous line.”

He shrugs. “Most of the women I flirt with can’t tell Shakespeare from Saturday comics.”

“You’re flirting with the wrong women, then,” she responds with an arched eyebrow. “They should at least be able to tell when they’re getting fed some of the most romantic lines in the world.”

“So I should flirt with women like you?” He grins cockily at her, shifting closer.

“Women who are  _like_ me, yes.” She gives him an unimpressed look and he shifts back to his original position unapologetically.

A throat clearing from behind them snaps him out of the zone being around Felicity had drawn him into and the noise and clamor of the crowded ball room comes flooding back into his senses. Turning around, he sees one blatantly disapproving Moira Queen standing behind him. “Hey, mom,” he greets innocently.

“Oliver,” she says. “Who is this?”

“Felicity Smoak, Mrs. Queen,” Felicity introduces herself before Oliver can, extending a hand. “I own the kennel Oliver has been doing his community service at.”

Moira relaxes minutely at the knowledge that Felicity is not another girl Oliver’s planning on bedding and shakes her head, though she looks no less disapproving. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Smoak. How has my son been handling his community service?”

“Very well,” Felicity assures. “He does a great job under me. Not  _under_ me, of course, but taking my orders. In the kennel. Where we both work. Separately.”

“I think she gets it, Felicity,” Oliver cuts her off, trying (and probably failing) to smother a laugh. The blonde flushes and drinks from her champagne flute. “We were just discussing quality Shakespeare pick up lines,” he tells his mom to pull her scrutiny off Felicity.

“I see,” Moira says. “I can only assume Ms. Smoak was not brought along only for that conversation. May I ask why you  _are_ here?” She is not to be deterred, and Felicity offers a polite smile. Oliver wonders if she’s aware that it looks more like she’s baring teeth.

“Running a kennel is expensive,” she replies. “So a couple of times a year, I have to come to an event such as this and beg and flirt for donations so we can continue to stay open and I can pay my employees.”

“Don’t most charities have events of their own for such a thing?” Moira’s voice continues to remain pleasant, though Oliver recognizes the undercurrent of razors now present.

“They do,” Felicity agrees, continuing to be overly pleasant. “However, my kennel is not a charity. When my grandfather ran the kennel, he had an event every year to raise money but after his passing, it became noticeably more difficult to host them.” Oliver winces. He can only assume that her grandfather used to host his events at any number of Queen owned properties in or near the Glades, all of which had been shut down years ago.

He decides to intervene before the claws come out. “Hey mom, weren’t there a few more senators or whatnot you wanted to show me off to?” He asks with a characteristic cocky grin, stepping between them and drawing his mother’s attention back to him by almost completely blocking Felicity from her line of sight. Moira’s gaze slides back to him and he suddenly feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

“Yes, I do,” she says after a moment. “Have a pleasant night, Ms. Smoak.”

“You too, Mrs. Queen.”

Oliver ushers his mother away, turning around to mouth “Sorry” to Felicity as he left. She lifts her glass at him with an arched eyebrow.

 

* * *

 

“I’m pretty sure your mother hates me,” Felicity tells him as a greeting Monday morning when he walks in, only slightly hungover. He considers it a win. He takes a moment to appreciate the long, toned legs she so graciously displays for him before answering.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he protests, somewhat weakly. To be fair, his mother wasn’t exactly known for liking a lot of people. Oliver wasn’t even entirely sure if she liked him most of the time. Loved, yes. Liked…not so much.

Felicity gives him a skeptical look. “Bet you ten bucks she trash talked me two minutes after you herded her away.”

“It might have been five minutes,” he tells her and earns himself a grin.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says to the setter as he walks into Lady’s kennel. “You’re still here, huh?” He gives her a scratch behind the ear before picking up her blankets and dragging them out. Lady cocks her head at him and wags her tail. “I’ll be back with more,” he promises her. “Just laundry day.”

He dumps the blankets in the pile on the floor of the room where Roy’s beginning a load. “Boy Wonder, I don’t know what you did with Lady. Did you switch her out with a new dog?”

“What? No. Why?”

“Because she’s like an entirely different dog. You’re, like, a dog whisperer or something.”

Oliver’s not entirely sure he knows what that is. “I am not,” he says. “She just needed some TLC.”

“Whatever, man. You ever think of stickin’ with dogs after you finish your stint here?” Roy’s been acting downright  _nice_ to Oliver ever since he got completely snubbed by Thea. Oliver misses the brat of a teen who mouthed off every chance he got. Almost.

“Not hardly,” he says. Just because he likes one dog doesn’t mean he likes them all. Even if the ones under his care aren’t bad. “I’m Oliver Queen, moron. I’m set to become the next CEO of Queen Industries.”

“Is that what you want?” Roy sounds skeptical.

 No. “Yes.”

“Whatever. Maybe your sister can do it. Speaking of your sister, I never got her name…” Roy trails off, leaning in as if Oliver is about to blurt out every dirty little detail of his sister’s. Which he might at some point, but only when she was around so he could savor her expressions.

“Nice try, Roy,” Oliver tells him. His continued refusal to share anything about Thea with the teenager earns him a dark look. He relishes the brief return to normality.  

 

* * *

 

Oliver is taking Lady on her last walk before he leaves for the day when he sees Felicity already in the dog run with a dog he recognizes vaguely. The blonde is throwing a bright green disc for the yellow dog and as he gets nearer, he realizes that she’s calling out ‘warmer’ and ‘colder’ to the dog.

“What the hell are you doing with that dog?” He asks conversationally. She jumps and looks over at him.

“Oliver! Hey. I’ll close the gate for you,” she tells him, moving to swing the gate that bisected the dog run closed. He moves to let Lady into the now separate dog run and unclips her leash. “Helena here is blind but she loves to play fetch. She’s been trained to respond to different commands to find the ball.”

“That’s awesome.” Oliver tries not to let the fact he’s impressed influence his tone but it still comes out sounding awed. “So what are you doing out of your office?” Felicity had disappeared right after he’d arrived and he’d heard what had sounded like one sided arguments coming from behind the door all day.

Felicity sighs and runs a hand over her hair. “I’ve spent most of the day yelling on the phone and in times of stress I take a dog out and unwind for a bit.”

“Oh,” he says lamely. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you can instantly make a sizeable chunk of money appear, not really,” she replies. He gives her a flat look.

“Well, not  _instantly_ ,” he says. “Gimme about ten minutes.” 

He can see from her expression when she suddenly remembers who it is she’s talking with. “Oliver, I was _joking_. I don’t want your money.”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t. Seriously, how much you need? Name a price. No amount is too big.”

“Is that how you solve all of your problems?” She asks wryly. “Just throw money at it until it goes away?”

“Well, yeah.” He doesn’t quite get her tone. “I’m a Queen. I’m a billionaire.”

“Your  _parents_ are billionaires,” she corrects.

“What’s that matter? It’s still my money and I can blow it as I please.”

“I see,” she says. “So giving me money is blowing it now.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protests, seeing the exact moment her normally expressive face shuts down at the perceived insult and feeling a knot form in his stomach. “Felicity, take my money. Come on.”

“I don’t need your charity, Oliver Queen,” she tells him flatly before clipping the leash back onto Helena and exiting the kennel.

“Yeah, you kind of do!” He shouts at her back, realizing that it wasn’t helping matters at all. He kicks at a rock embedded in the ground and only succeeds in injuring his big toe. “Why are women so fucking complicated?” He complains to Lady as he hobbles away from the gate. She follows him sedately and looks reproachfully at him. “Don’t look at me like that. She’s the one who’s too goddamn proud to accept help.” The look doesn’t fade away.

 

* * *

 

“Nice going, newbie,” Roy bites at him as he’s signing out for the day. The teenager walks by him with a handful of clean laundry and Oliver winces. He’s back to the more degrading nickname. He doesn’t have to ask what it’s in reference to; he’s already been told the same thing by both Sara and John.

“Piss off,” he says to the boy’s back as he signs his name for a flourish. He’s eager to get out of here and find Tommy and preferably a drink or twelve. “Later,” he says to the girl behind the counter, who gives him a disdainful look.

Yeah, he’s definitely getting drunk tonight if he has to come back to this place tomorrow and deal with being shut out when he was only just beginning to feel accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also realized that I never got around to detailing the breeds of the dog in the kennel. So, real quick:
> 
> \- Arrow is a great dane. I imagine a harlequin.  
> \- The Snow White-named mama and litter were all pit bull mixes and mostly white with brindle patches.  
> \- Canary was a yellow lab.  
> \- Helena is a golden retriever. Also fun fact: the activity Felicity plays with her is based off of a video I saw with someone who did this exact same thing.  
> -Speedy is also a yellow lab. A young one.
> 
> I think that's all of the ones I mentioned by name so far. :) If I missed one and you want to know, just ask. 
> 
> Come celebrate Rick Perry's being indicted with me on [tumblr](http://tititilani.tumblr.com/).


	5. Pug Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendships get mended, and Oliver discovers that Thea and Felicity meeting is a terrible idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look. It's a update. A year overdue. Um, yay?
> 
> Sorry this is so late, it's been an incredibly busy year. I had my laptop stolen. Twice. 
> 
> Updates should be frequent now, though. :)
> 
> Despite the title, no pugs feature in this (yet.)

The next few days feel like his first few days all over again. Sara is back to pretending he doesn’t exist and Roy gives him dirty looks whenever he thinks Oliver doesn’t notice (he does). Even John is giving him disappointed looks, ones that do a hell of a better job of making him feel guilt than his parents’ ever did. The tentative, almost friendship he had developed with Felicity had disappeared, leaving an awkward, stilted air between them.

Not that she ever stuck around long enough for that to happen.

In fact, the only one who doesn’t seem to be perpetually annoyed by his presence is four-legged and hairy. Lady continues to flourish under his attention, and seems eternally glad to see him. He may or may not sneak her the occasional treat to ensure he stays in her good graces (he totally does). Even the other dogs under his care seem to be snubbing him more, and are only glad to see him if he has either a leash or food in his hands. He can only assume that Roy is badmouthing him to them when he isn’t around.

He has no idea how to fix the problems between him and Felicity (and doesn’t even entirely know _how_ it happened) and so he throws himself into his work with an unprecedented amount of fervor. His kennels are so clean that they damn near sparkle and he tackles the twice daily task of exercising his dogs with a truly ridiculous amount of enthusiasm until his arms and legs ache and his dogs droop noticeably from exhaustion.

And still Felicity’s silence continues. It’s enough to drive him insane.

It’s a week later and still their stalemate continues. Oliver slumps down in Lady’s kennel after finishing all of his other tasks for the day. “My arms feel like noodles,” he complains just for old time’s sake, weakly wiggling his fingers for added emphasis. Lady peers reproachfully at him from on top of her pile of blankets, like she is fully aware that he’s full of shit. He didn’t know he could feel so judged from a _dog._ Even if he kind of is. While he’s definitely tired, it’s nothing like the exhaustion at the beginning. He’s developing muscles now, wiry and strong from working with the dogs every day and his skin is looking more bronzed every day from spending more and more time in the sun.

Hell, he’s pretty much used to the daily grind now, which is equally parts terrifying and awesome.

He reaches out and scritches Lady behind her ear. “Just twenty three more days until I’m done,” he tells her quietly. It feels more foreboding than it had the beginning, even with the radio silence from everyone.

“Hey, newbie,” Roy’s voice comes from the other side of the chain link gate. Surprised he’s even being acknowledged, Oliver lifts his head and blinks. “Good work with your dogs today. I’ve never seen them so exhausted.” It almost sounds like a compliment, too.

Oliver grins. “Thanks.” 

Maybe things were finally looking up.

 

* * *

 

“Dude, I feel like you have pretty much disappeared into that community service you’re stuck doing,” Tommy tells him over the phone later that evening. “We haven’t gone out at all in a week.”

“I’ve been busy,” Oliver says by way of an apology as he browses the book stacks. “I’m spending eight hours a day five days a week hauling shit, sometimes literally, and cleaning up after dogs. The last thing I want to do is go out and hit on girls.” He’s surprised to realize he means it, too.

“What happened to you?” Tommy asks, not entirely rhetorical. Oliver offers a shrug that his best friend can’t see and pulls a book out to inspect the cover. _Having an Irish Setter: Your Dog and You!_ The title proclaims in bright, friendly letters. After another moment of consideration, he puts the book in his basket. It feels a bit bizarre to be doing his own shopping for once instead of sending someone else to do it, but he can’t say he minds. It’s nice in a way to choose personally what he’s getting.

“I’m still the same irresponsible punk as ever,” Oliver assures him. “Just a slightly busier one.” He picks up another book, this one featuring a black dog with a grayed-out muzzle and bright eyes and the title reads _Working With Senior Dogs; You CAN Teach An Old Dog New Tricks._ This, too, gets added to the basket.

“Then come out with me this weekend, since you’re _so_ busy during the week,” Tommy says. “Otherwise, I’m gonna start feeling neglected.”

“We’ll see,” Oliver evades, picking up a third book on fun tips and activities to do with dogs and adding it to the basket before heading off to the checkout, fully aware of the armed shadow that peels off from the corner and follows him. His mom had insisted on him having additional security, and any attempts to get more than the man’s name (‘Bob,’ what the hell) fell flat. “Where would we even go?”

Tommy’s talk of a new club that opened recently is a reassuring drum in Oliver’s ears as he hands over a credit card.

 

* * *

 

Oliver earns himself a well known disdainful look when he walks in the next day with a towering cup of coffee in hand. “Thought you would have learned by now, boy wonder,” Sara says, leaning back in her chair and pointing at the trash can with a pen.

“It’s not for me, actually,” he says and places it on her desk. “I already had my caffeine for the day.”

She adopts an undeniably greedy look as she pulls it towards her and pries off the lid to take a deep sniff. “Oh my god, this smells amazing,” she says, breathing deep. “What brought this on? It’s still hot.”

“Just felt like it,” he says vaguely with a shrug. He doesn’t say it’s because he happened to to overhear her saying that she was having to come in even earlier than usual because of the paperwork that had been mounting lately. While he has gotten used to rising early (and has even discovered that he doesn’t mind it, sometimes), she always beats him here stays after he leaves. “I thought I would want it, but I was wrong. Seemed wrong to let it go to waste.” The sentence sits weirdly on his tongue, as he’s uncomfortably aware that even just a few short weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought about tossing out a perfectly good cup of coffee.

Sara doesn’t look like she believes a word he says, but is too serene to call him on it. “Well, thanks,” she tells him, stretching her arms above her hand and wiggling her fingers a bit before cupping the coffee again. “My hands are killing me and the heat feels nice.”

“Whatever.” He feels distinctly uncomfortably with Sara acting anything other disdainful and snide towards him. “It’s just coffee.”

“Where’s mine then, boy wonder?” Roy comes up from behind him with a fist full of freshly washed collars in hand.

“I didn’t bring you any,” Oliver says.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a little shit,” Oliver tells him, and then nods at the blissful-looking blonde behind the desk. “Later, Sara.”

“See you, boy wonder.”

He tries not to feel too pleased by the apparent return to the still-demeaning-but-still-kind-of-fond nickname.

 

* * *

 

It’s during his brief lunch break that he finally sees the elusive Felicity for the first time in what feels like too damn long. And to add to his surprise, she’s even looking for him.

“Hey, Oliver,” she says with the smile he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing and approaches the small table that he had temporarily claimed for himself. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He closes his magazine and slips both it and the book he’d actually been reading into his bag before she can notice. “Sure,” he says, trying to adopt a nonchalant tone. He finds it’s harder than it used to be to acting the uncaring playboy. “What’s up?”

She sits down across from him and crosses those frankly delightful legs in plain view. He’s starting to think she does it on purpose. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” There’s no way he’s going to let her know that he’s been practically obsessing over their last conversation since he walked away.

“For the way I acted,” she replies. The look she gives him lets him know that she isn’t falling for his shit in the slightest. “I know I was overly sensitive and I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” he says, dropping the uncaring bad boy act now that he knows the jig is up and relaxes into his seat. “I was kind of an ass, too.”

Felicity traces an aimless pattern on the plastic table with a  brightly colored nail before speaking. “The truth is, I don’t particularly enjoy having to ask for money for the shelter,” she admits ruefully. “So when you just offered to throw money at me without a thought felt insulting.” She offer a thoroughly chastised smile. “I don’t like pity.”

“I didn’t mean to make it seem like pity,” he tells her. “But I could probably have been more tactful, sorry. My first instinct when facing a problem is to throw money at it.” He shrugs, unrepentant. “It usually works.”

She only looks amused and extends a hand towards him. “Apology accepted, half assed or not. Friends?”

He looks apprehensively at the out-stretched hand for a heartbeat before taking it and giving it a decisive shake. He doesn’t really have friends, with the only exception being Tommy. He finds himself looking forward to trying it out. “Friends,” he confirms.

Her smile warms noticeably at that and she gets to her feet. “I’m glad,” she says and he actually thinks she means it, which is more than a little surreal. “Now, I have a meeting with a particularly obnoxious customer here in a few minutes, so I have to go.”

“See you later.” He gives her a small smile and a wave.

 

* * *

 

Oliver frowns down at the chart, but the strength of his disapproval is still not enough to erase his name from under 'caretaker.’ “I really don’t want to do this,” he says to no one in particular, sliding his gaze down to where seven puppy noses poke through the chain link gate. Even the big brown eyes they aim up at him is not enough to make him any more enthused.

Roy walks by him, one of his own dogs pulling ahead in its eagerness. “Tough luck, boy wonder,” he says, sounding completely unsympathetic. “Since Arrow got adopted, you need a new dog.”

“So you give me _eight_?” The longer he stares at the seven wiggling puppies and one exhausted mother, the more he decides that he prefers older dogs. He can already feel sharp teeth biting into his fingers. The kennel is absolutely trashed and the smell is making him nauseous in a way he thought he was over by now.

“The seven little ones equal out to one big one,” Roy offers over his shoulder, wrestling to put his dog back into its kennel.

“Even I know that’s bullshit,” Oliver says, earning a laugh from the younger man. Steeling himself, he arms himself with a small horde of bags and goes in. 

 

* * *

 

Three bandaged fingers, he slinks into Lady’s kennel and tries not to be too relieved by her spotless kennel. He’s a bit mentally scarred right now, and the fact that he only needs to sweep out some fur is a huge relief. “You’re my favorite,” he tells her sincerely, sinking chewed-on fingers into her soft fur with a not-so-quiet sigh of relief. His heartfelt confession earns him a wag of her tail and he gives her a scritch behind a silky ear with a slight smile.

He only has twenty minutes before he’s done for the day and he’s elected to spend those last few minutes with Lady. He’s already pretty much finished all of his other tasks and nobody’s been bitching about it to him so he figures it’s okay. “Don’t forget,” he reminds the setter. “If you’re still here in three weeks, you’re mine.”

Almost as if she understands him, Lady wags her tail more enthusiastically at that.

“Mom will kill you if you bring a dog home.” Looking up, he sees Thea standing on the other side of the gate, looking completely out of place in her thousand dollar dress among the barking dogs.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, surprised.

“Wanted to surprise you and see if you felt like grabbing dinner,” she says, crinkling her nose at him. “But that was before I knew that you smelled like wet dog. There’s no way in hell that we can go anywhere with you looking like that.”

“Not my fault that puppies are such gross little fuckers,” he grouses with another especially grateful scratch to Lady.

“Not to sound like I was eavesdropping, even if I kind of was,” Felicity’s voice comes from around the corner and the blonde herself appears into his line of sight a moment later, tablet in hand as always. “But I know of a great little burger joint not far from here and they don’t care what you look, or smell, like.”

Thea eyes Felicity and Oliver immediately finds himself on guard. He’s familiar enough with that look to know that it usually is precursor to her eating someone alive. It’s always reminded him of a lion stalking its prey. Felicity’s politely pleasant expression doesn’t falter, to her credit, but he catches the way she casts him a briefly uncertain look. Then, just like that, Thea’s expression clears and she loops an arm through one of Felicity’s, almost knocking her beloved tablet out of her hands in the process. “I like you,” she declares. “So, these burgers…”

“Best ones you’ve ever eaten,” Felicity promises, looking an odd mix of relieved and amused. “We eat there all the time.”

“That settles it, then,” Thea says, turning her attention back to Oliver. “Ollie, we’re going to this burger place she’s talking about.”

“I don’t get a say?” He asks good-naturedly even as he gets to his feet with a last pat to Lady and brushes off the red and white fur off his pants. “At least let me go wash my hands, if you’re planning on dragging me somewhere.” His protests are more an act than sincere, as he does enjoy spending time with his brat of a sister and he’s starving, but he wouldn’t be Oliver Queen without at least a bit of complaining.

He walks away to Thea introducing herself to Felicity.

 

* * *

 

Felicity winds up being interrogated all the way to the burger joint (which Oliver manages to find out is named Big Belly Burger) and after the second time that Thea gives him a dirty look when he tries to intervene on Felicity’s behalf, he tries to stay quiet and out of the conversation.

“Oh my god,” Thea moans theatrically when their food finally arrives, taking a huge bite out of her bacon cheeseburger. “I think I just came.”

Oliver accidentally inhales his food.

Felicity smacks him accommodatingly on the back, eyes twinkling from behind her glasses as he does his level best to cough up the errant bite and his lungs with it.

“Sorry, Ollie,” Thea says apologetically, even as there’s a distinctly wicked curve to her lips.

“I hate you,” he gasps, eyes streaming.

“No, you don’t,” Thea dismisses his claim readily before digging into her food with absolutely no manners whatsoever. He’s tempted to record it and send it in the next time a gossip rag starts in on how elegant his sister is.

Oliver takes a deep swallow of his soda and catches Felicity’s eyes. _Sorry,_ he mouths, tilting his head towards his oblivious sister.

She flat out grins at him in a way she doesn’t do often, and he finds himself breathless for the briefest of moments. Felicity shakes her head at him and mouths back, _Don’t worry about it._

He flashes his most roguish grin back at her and has the pleasure of watching her cheeks flush.

“So you haven’t told me yet,” Thea says, thoroughly ruining their silent conversation. Oliver turns back to face his sister, uncomfortably aware of the mischievous look in her eyes. She isn’t looking at him, though, and she leans in towards Felicity. “How bad is my brother at the shelter? Have you wanted to kill him yet?”

“That isn’t my standard reaction to Oliver, no,” Felicity replies, glancing at Oliver out of the corner of her eye. “But he does great work. Now, I mean. When he first started, he tried to bribe me into letting him take the easy way out.”

“Well, we are Queens,” Thea says matter-of-factly, offering a shrug. “There’s very little we can’t get out of.”

“You’re pretty much the exception,” Oliver admits to Felicity sheepishly.

She looks amused. “Lucky me,” she says around a bite of her burger. “It’s been good for you, though. Can’t deny that.”

Before he can find out what she means by that, Thea intervenes. “Meant to ask, Ollie,” she says, apparently having finished off her burger in record time and having thus decided to get back on the “tormenting her older brother until he has the urge to jump off the nearest bridge” wagon. “Who was the dog you were sweet talking? I haven’t even heard you talk like that to girls you’re trying to sleep with.”

Oliver stuffs his burger into his mouth and decides not to answer. Felicity unfortunately doesn’t get the memo. “Oh, that was Lady,” she answers blithely. “She’s one of the dogs under his care, and his personal favorite.”

“Is not,” he protests weakly, almost choking on his burger again in an attempt to defend his honor, even though it’s blatantly true. Thea already has the glint in her eyes that once resulted in her putting Nair in his shampoo because he used her loofah. _Once_.

Both Felicity and Thea aim an eerily similar “you’re so full of shit” look at him and he suddenly realizes how bad of an idea it was to ever let them meet. “You spend more time with her than any of your other dogs,” Felicity points out in an entirely too logical manner.

“What, like I’m gonna spend it with the puppies?” He asks pointedly, earning himself a bright, unapologetic smile. He likes that smile more than he really should.

Thea perks up at that. “Puppies?”

“No.” Oliver points one of his fries at her, which she then steals, the brat.

She pulls a face at him and proceeds to eat her stolen fry with what he feels is unnecessary relish.

“And just last week, you told me that you wanted to adopt Lady,” Felicity says, like the traitor she is.

Thea’s gaze sharpens at that, even if she looks incredibly amused. He’s afraid to know what she finds so amusing. “Mom really will kill you if you bring home a dog,” she reminds him.

“I can convince her,” he says. Probably.

Thea’s skepticism clearly doesn’t fade, though it doesn’t stop her from listening eagerly as Felicity proceeds to tell her about everything he did wrong his first week on the job. She also makes sure to include some of the mushy things he did for Lady and how he was indirectly responsible for the naming of the puppies from hell.

“I need you two to stop getting along now,” he says.

 

* * *

 

“I like her,” Thea tells him later, once they are safely on their way home. “You could certainly do a lot worse.”

He wonders why it sounds like he just got permission to date Felicity, and from his baby sister, too.

 

* * *

 

Before he even realizes it, he’s bringing Sara a coffee every day. He finds out how she likes it (milk, with just a dash of sugar) and the look she gives him every time he sets it down on her desk never fails to make him extremely uncomfortable. It also makes her soft a bit towards him, though it’s still not enough for her to call him by his given name. He finds he doesn’t even mind that much anymore.

And if at some point, a coffee made the way Roy likes it starts joining her’s, then that’s just because he had an extra.

 

* * *

 

When it comes time for the weekend, he begs off going out with Tommy, saying that he pulled something while doing his community service. Which…isn’t exactly a lie. He definitely got a bit over exuberant when throwing a ball for one of the dogs, but it isn’t that bad. A scalding hot shower took out the worst of the soreness.

The look he earns from his mother when he actually sits down to eat with them is nothing short of insulting, if well-deserved. Dinner is as tense as it usually is, but he still manages to escape with his skin intact. In his bedroom, safely away from prying eyes, he pulls out the small stack of books that he had been trying to work his way through. He already feels more prepared for the idea of the idea of having a dog as he takes down notes on some activities he could do with Lady the next day to get her involved.

He gets a weird look when he asks that they stop off and buy a muffin pan and tennis balls, especially since they easily have half a dozen at the house, but Lady seems to enjoy the act of rooting around for her food and her tail wags all the harder when he praises her whenever she finds it. Afterwards, he tosses the balls into the toy bin for the other dogs to use.

Felicity’s approving look warms him down to his very bones.

 

* * *

 

“You should go out with me,” Oliver says after his shift is over, leaning on the door frame of her open door.

Felicity physically starts at that, looking up from the screen of her laptop with slightly wide eyes. “What?” He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way her voice is incredulous but not angry.

“Go out with me,” he repeats, strolling into her office without waiting for permission and sprawling in a chair in the exact manner that he knows brings attention to the long lines of his body. He definitely isn’t imagining the way her gaze flickers down to his toes and then back up to meet his eyes. She looks faintly disapproving, but not sincerely.

“Oliver,” she sighs, pulling off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. He finds her reactions endearing. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not?” He asks, leaning in towards her even with the desk between them. “I know I’m not the only one sensing the chemistry between us.” He had been half expecting that she would need some convincing, so he isn’t deterred.

“I’m…I’m your _employer,_ ” she says weakly. “And Oliver Queen doesn’t date, and I’m not a one night stand.”

“What if it’s a really _great_ night?” He asks, voice unintentionally dropping into a huskier register. Her hand trembles and he sees her swallow.

“Still not appropriate,” she manages after a moment, and he cocks his head. “No matter your supposed prowess,” she continues, voice sounding more firm. He smiles dangerously at her and her breathing picks up.

He slinks to his feet. He might know shit about dogs, but this…this he knows. And he _always_ aims to win.

Felicity rolls her chair back when he stalks around the desk and encroaches into her space but is quickly stopped by the wall. He leans into her personal space, close enough to smell the green apple shampoo she must use, and covers her smaller hand with his. “Felicity,” he says, only a matter of inches away from her tempting mouth. “There is nothing _supposed_ about my prowess.”

She exhales sharply, and he smells the fruity smell that means that she must have been sucking on a lollipop recently. Biting back a groan, he wraps her loose bright hair through his fingers and gives a gentle tug, which is enough for her to tilt her head back. Her eyes look huge and uncertain. He slides a knee between her legs and she unconsciously leans in to him. He almost smiles at how responsive she’s proving to be and slides fingers up the bare skin of her arm, feeling gooseflesh.

A fraction of an inch keeps him from tasting her lips, and to distract himself, he finds himself saying again, “Go out with me, Felicity.” She bites her lip, smearing the bright pink lipstick she had on and he wants to lick it all off.

“No,” she says breathlessly, nails digging in deep into the arm rests of her chair. The blue of her eyes is almost swallowed by black, leaving only a thin circle. “Not while you work for me.”

He cocks his head at that. “So after I no longer work for you, you will?” She looks pinned by her own admission and he takes advantage of her stunned silence to slide his hair out from her hair and slip back to the other side of the desk. “I’ll hold you to that, then, yeah?” He says, tone back to normal. She looks lost at the abrupt change, and he sees her throat bob.

He leaves before she can give a proper answer. “See you tomorrow, Felicity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muffin tin activity is actually real! You hide your dog's food or treats in some of the tins, cover them all with tennis balls, and then let your dog find all the food. It's a great way to stimulate your dog mentally, and increase self esteem (which is great for insecure dogs like Lady.)
> 
> Sorry if the ending was awkward. I am so rusty at that. D:
> 
> Come keep me company on [tumblr](http://tititilani.tumblr.com/).


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